


Blue is no one's Color

by mandaree1



Series: Tremors [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (that's only for a sec tho), Cussing, Otherwise most of these interactions make no sense, Poor color choices, Questioning your sexuality, Re-marrying, Trust me you gotta read Tremors first, Underage Smoking, silly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:39:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandaree1/pseuds/mandaree1
Summary: Companion piece to Tremors. Pacifica's Mom is re-marrying, and Mabel is questioning her sexuality.





	Blue is no one's Color

"Hey, Dipper? Dumb question."

"There's no dumb questions, only dumb answers."

"That's a dumb quote."

"Touché, Pines."

Dipper glanced up from his game as Mabel hesitantly crawled across one of the closed-off panels to the portal, rolling onto her back. Her long hair brushed the floor. "So, like, girls, right?" she prompted.

"Girls?"

"Girls."

"What about girls?"

" _Girls_."

"I repeat: what about girls?"

"Girls are cute, right?"

"Yes?"

Mabel reached out to poke his cheek, as if unsatisfied by his answer. "I think I might like girls."

"Okay." Dipper nodded. "Cool."

"That's it? That's all you're gonna say?"

"Is there something in particular you wanted me to say?"

"How about 'hey, Mabel, I support and love you, no matter who you like'?"

"Hey, Mabel? I support and love you, no matter who you like."

"Now you're just copying me!" she cried, crossing her arms in a pout.

Dipper laughed. He set the game aside completely, twisting around to prop his arms on the metal panel. "You caught me, Mabes. But it's not a lie. I  _do_  love and support you and junk." He poked her back. "Any reason this is coming up now?"

"Not really." Mabel slid off, then parked her butt next to him. "It's just... Mom and Dad never really talked about it, y'know? Gay, bi, pan- that type of thing. I knew it existed, but I never thought it applied to me, and I think a lot of it draws back to that." She propped her chin on her hand. "Y'think they'll still love me? If I like girls and guys? Or- or maybe just girls?"

"They better," he said, jokingly wiggling a fist. "Or we're running off to join the circus."

That got a laugh out of the girl. She craned her head to the side. "Hey, Pacifica?  _Pacifica_? Damnit, Pacifica, keep an earbud out like someone with common decency." Mabel pulled aside the blanket Pacifica had strung up between the two metal disks, revealing the teenager with a flashlight on and a book in her lap, music blaring. She snapped her fingers. "Hey, Pazzy? You listening?"

Pacifica plucked her earbuds out with a frown. "I didn't do it."

"We're talking about running off to join the circus. You wanna come with?"

"I draw the line at pigs, Mabel. I'm not helping you take care of elephants." Waddles let out a squeal of complaint. Pacifica flicked off her flashlight, blanket fort compromised, and set the book aside with a sigh. "Why are we talking about running away to join the circus?"

Mabel shrugged. "Pacifica, do you think girls are pretty?"

Pacifica blinked at her, befuddled. "I feel like I'm obligated to say yes, seeing how I'm a girl and I like to think I'm pretty."

"But what about  _other_  girls?"

"They're pretty too! _Everyone's_  pretty. There. Problem solved."

The ringing of Pacifica's cell phone blew the joking air from the room like fire. The blonde girl's mouth fell into a flat line as she answered. "Hey. I'm at that old hunk of junk shack. Yeah, that one. What?" Pacifica cradled the bridge of her nose. "That soon, huh? No, no, I just thought you'd want more time to prepare. How rich? Mhm, mhm, wow, that's less than I expected. What's the name of that snooty laugh guy? No, the other one. I figured you were going with him. 'Kay. I'll see you for dinner." She flipped it closed. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. It was Dipper who spoke. "What's up?"

Pacifica shoved her phone back into her pocket. "My Mom decided who she's gonna marry. Wedding's next week. Dude's some sorta top secret agent bozo."

" _Please_  tell me you aren't talking about Agent Powers," Mabel pleaded.

She shrugged. "I think she was shooting for 'the exact opposite of my last douchebag husband', and somehow got Powers out of that. I'm kind of shocked he agreed to do it. I mean, I figured he was too busy doing all sorts of top-secrety stuff for a wedding." Pacifica put her thumb to her chin. "I wonder if I could get out of it and go hide in the woods. Aw, but Mom never does planning well, so I'm basically screwed."

"We could go!" Mabel offered, cutting Dipper off before he could give her condolences and a pat on the back.

Pacifica laughed. "Oh, man. You know those TV shows, with the brides who take, like, a  _million_  girlfriends dress-shopping with her, only to fall apart as they judge the crap out of her, think over the wedding, decide  _maybe_  they aren't meant to be, that type of thing?"

"Yeeeaaaahhh?"

"My Mom is like that with planning. Only without the heartfelt ending where she gets the best dress. She usually just gets a hangover." She let out a sigh of disgust. "You think I could talk Tambry out of some of her cigarettes? I'll need them."

"Oh, yeah," Dipper said. "She usually gives them out as prizes in her arm-wrestling competitions."

"That woman's got some serious upper-arm strength." Mabel whistled. "I mean, I could  _probably_  take her, but I don't want her smokes, so I don't."

* * *

"Mom!" Pacifica had to yell to be heard over Skull Fracture's booming tunes. "Mom, listen to me. No one is planning your assassination. That's literally not a thing people do. Okay, you got me on that one, but I only know about it from Test of Seats." She shuffled the phone to her other hand. "Yes, I know Mr. Powers has a lot of enemies.  _You_  were the one who decided to marry him. I'm _not_  calling him Dad, okay? The moment I do that, the terrorists will see me as a useful hostage. Wait, Mom, no I was kid- darnit." Pacifica rubbed a hand across her face and hit end call. "Whelp, I blew that one."

"Wow, dude," Tambry said, typing out a status update. "Your Mom sounds intense. But did you really come here just to bum a smoke off me?"

"I came here because I work here," Pacifica grunted, hopping up on one of the bar stools. "I didn't even know you hung out here."

"Are you saying you  _don't_  want a smoke?"

"No."

"'Kay." She tossed over her pack. "The first one is the only free one. The rest have to be won or bought."

This wasn't Pacifica's first smoke. It  _was_  her first full cigarette, but that was about it. When you grow up around a bunch of bored rich people, one has the habit of finding things they shouldn't. She lit up and inhaled, blowing it out with only a slight cough. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Takin' pics for class." Tambry held up her phone. "It's a hobby of mine."

"I don't suppose I could hire you for the wedding?"

The teenager blinked at her, nonplussed. "Would your Mom even let me? I mean, you guys _are_  rich."

"We're just getting out of a rough patch, and it's so short-notice no one in their right mind will agree," Pacifica said sensibly, tapping the end into the tray. She tried to ignore the sick feeling she got in her belly when she did stuff like this. She's fourteen now- fifteen in January. Preston was gone. She shouldn't have to be afraid anymore. "You in or not?"

"Sure, why not?"

"You will regret that statement," she promised, stabbing the cigarette out completely. "Anyway. I gotta go beat up on some miners. Thanks again, dude."

* * *

"I think we might have a problem."

"No, we don't," Pacifica disagreed. "A problem implies there's a solution."

As much as she loved her mother (and, despite her reservations, she did love her quite a lot), Priscilla had never been good with picking colors for- well, anything, really. She had great taste in fabrics and designs, be it on walls or on dresses, but colors always seemed to evade her. The dresses handed to the two girls had been plain, simple, and tasteful, with a bow around the waist, tied off at the back, for an extra dose of cute.

It just happened to be blue. Not the typical bright robin egg blue, or even a pretty deep blue, but metallic blue, which washed out Pacifica's paler features and clashed with Mabel's brown hair horribly.

"I'd say I was surprised," Pacifica said, sighing. "But I'm not."

Mabel held up the edge of the gown with her tongue sticking out. "This kind of blue is for cars, not people."

"You're telling me," Dipper wheezed as he came out of his own changing room, a stiff frown to his features. His suit was the exact same color. "I thought the Northwests were supposed to have class, Pacifica."

"They are. We do. But we also pull stunts like, oh, I dunno, giving our children terrible pun names." Pacifica squinted at his outfit. "...Why does your bowtie have polka dots?"

"Because your Mom hates me?" he answered rhetorically, trying in vain to make it feel less strangling. "Man, formal wear is the worst. And why can't I wear my hat? My hair looks _better_  when it's half-covered by a hat."

"That might be rectified if you ever bothered to _brush it_ , bro."

The clicking of high heels signaled Priscilla's frazzled approach. Pacifica didn't think her mother had slept well the past few days, judging by the bags under her eyes. She scurried over to push a few blonde hairs behind her ears. "You look great, honey," she said while looking at Mabel, frowning. "You're the pig girl, aren't you?"

"I am indeed the pig girl," Mabel said. "I also have a side job as an ex-were-possum."

Priscilla pointed a finger gun at her, too out of it to even question the pre-teen's sense of humor. "No pigs," she told her sternly, and then she was gone, calling out for her florist. Pacifica watched her leave from whence she came, wondering if she would ever be that stressed about a wedding one day. She hoped not.

"Wow," Dipper said, floored.

"Yeah," Mabel said.

"I thought you dweebs promised no judging," Pacifica scolded. "Let's just get these stupid things off and head to Greasy's."

* * *

Pacifica attempted to help Lazy Susan out in the kitchen, but the woman all but shoves her into a booth, scolding her for going off the clock.

They don't talk much throughout the meal, too busy stuffing their faces with messy burgers and fries, drinking their sodas like they're going out of style. Rehearsal anything is pretty boring and strenuous, and that only really doubled when the rehearsal was for something like a wedding.

Pacifica had forgotten she'd brought her cell phone along until it rang midway through her washing her hands in the restroom. She cut the water and propped herself up on the counter, hitting answer call without checking first. "Go for Pacifica."

"Well, at least I know this is the right number."

Her heart dropped. Pacifica fumbled her phone, almost dropping it. "Dad?"

She could practically  _hear_  the man flinch. "Pacifica, don't. Just Preston."

"Where  _are_  you?" Pacifica demanded, feeling a bit sick to her stomach. "And, seriously? You're calling  _now_? That's pretty fucked up, Preston."

"What was I supposed to do? Stay?"

"Kinda, yeah."

"You and your mother were holding me back," he spat. "You've both lost your senses. And now she's off gallivanting with some knuckle-headed agent."

She didn't argue him. Pacifica had grown up learning not to. "You've got one minute to tell me why you've called."

Preston sighed and rubbed his face, though Pacifica had no way of knowing that. "I called to give you options, Pacifica."

"Options?"

"Options," he repeated. "You could come with me. You've still got some promise in you. With enough time, I'm sure we could fix your little rebellious ticks."

Pacifica didn't answer.

"Or you can stay, but you'll be no daughter of mine," Preston added. "Certainly not a Northwest. You can be Pacifica Powers, if that suits you."

"Hey, Dad?"

He reprimand her for the slip. "Yes?"

"Fuck you."

Pacifica hung up.

* * *

"I'm sure this must be very stressful for you," Agent Powers said stiffly. He was a very stiff man as it was, but Pacifica was certain this was even more stiffness than he probably normally had. "Rest assured, I will do my best to keep you comfortable. Here's a bell to signal to the helpers with."

Pacifica held up both her hands, grimacing. "I'd rather not. Me and bells have some bad mojo."

The agent's reply was to break the bell in half with his bare hands.

"Holy shit."

"Thank you." He pocketed the remains. "I intend to keep you and your mother in good company. I won't be around very often, but I want our time together to be as pleasant as possible when I am. Nobody likes coming back to an unhappy household."

"True dat," Pacifica said, ever the divulging teen. "By the way, would it hurt your feelings if I kept my last name? I wanna piss my Dad off."

Agent Powers shook his head. "By all means. Don't let your mother and I's attempt to fill a void in our lives with ultimately frivolous and worthless gestures stop you from your spite."

"Wow, dude. You're kind of a downer."

"So I've been told."

* * *

"This is the stupidest mistake I've ever made in my life," Priscilla whispered as she looked herself over in the mirror.

Pacifica, busy braiding her hair, hardly glanced up. "The wedding or the dress?"

"Neither!" She pointed at Dipper and Mabel awkwardly standing off the side. "Not making fancy hair mandatory! Could someone  _please_  put some flowers in those mops? They're so _plain_."

"Thanks, ma'am," Dipper said. "I'll treasure those words until I die."

"Is it rude to point out that you have the exact same hair color as us?" Mabel asked. "Scratch that. I don't really care."

"Why do you think I'm having it braided?" Priscilla hissed in reply. "Honestly, Pazzy, why couldn't you have brought those other friends of yours? The richer, more polite ones?"

"They moved away?" she reminded her. "Y'know, because their parents were smart enough to decide that surviving one magical apocalypse was enough?"

"Ah, yes. They never really _were_  Gravity Falls material, were they? No real strange, noteworthy quirks about them. Shame, though."

* * *

Tambry brings all her friends with her, but if Priscilla notices, she doesn't complain. She's probably happy to have some extra seats filled. The Northwests hadn't exactly made a lot of allies when they sided with Bill, and even now that her mother had relinquished the name and planned to re-marry, no one really was willing to let bygones be bygones, leaving the entire wedding to be the size of a nickel, though far more expensive.

Then there's Agent Trigger in the front row, sobbing quite loudly, displaying his pride with generous hugs and wails. Agent Powers seems to be slightly touched by this.

The organ music swells as her mother walks down the aisle, her own dress the same ugly blue as everything else. Pacifica admired her mother's ability to seem regal in even the strangest of fashion choices. She wasn't sure if Agent Powers' regular black suit and tie helped the situation or made it worse, considering Dipper stood close to him, a very displeased frown on his face.

But then it all comes to a delightful, silly end, the illusion shattered by the slamming of the front doors as they're kicked open. A collective record scratch fell over the proceedings as Pacifica closed her eyes and counted to ten, thinking,  _please, for the love of all that is holy, don't be that motherfucker._

It's not that motherfucker.

It's a gnome.

That's... not much better, honestly.

Priscilla let out a loud gasp. "M-Morton? What are you doing here?"

Morton the gnome pointed up at them. "I'm here for my rightful place by your side, Priscilla!"

"Jesus fuck," Pacifica whispered, setting her burning face in her hands. "Is this seriously happening right now?"

Her mother tossed the bouquet at him. "You had your chance at the cotillion, you!"

A hand touched Pacifica's shoulder. "Hey," Mabel said, her voice oddly quiet compared to the uproar. "You wanna bounce?"

"Yessss," she groaned, turning away before she could watch Agent Trigger and Dipper dogpile on Morton. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

"You know, I never noticed the photos up here before."

Pacifica flicked off the flashlight, obscuring the old newspaper articles under blankets and dust. "That was kinda the point. They're boring, anyway. Business stuff."

"Business stuff?" Mabel reached up to poke one, face scrunching up. "Ew."

"Gotta start somewhere," Pacifica responded dully. "One good gesture isn't gonna be enough to fix the Northwest name."

She withdrew the finger, interlocking them on her lap. Mabel wished she had a 'I'm sorry your family sucks" sweater, but it hadn't occurred to her to knit one before. "You know, that might just be the one thing we have in common?"

"Residual guilt?"

"Kinda meh families. I mean, your's is  _way_  worse, not even gonna pretend, but Dipper 'n me don't exactly have Mr. and and Mrs. White Picket Fence, either."

"I don't think I've ever heard you talk about them."

She shrugged her shoulders, tiny without her larger than life attitude. "Not much to say. They haven't loved each other for years. If they ever did. But they stayed together for the kids or whatever, so now it's all a bunch of boring tense-ness twenty-four-seven. Y'know, I don't even feel comfortable enough to tell them I might be gay?"

"Who cares if you're gay?"

"That's the thing- I dunno if they do or not. I don't feel close enough to test the waters and find out."

"Oh." Pacifica awkwardly patted her shoulder. "Well, I don't mind. I know that doesn't mean much, but I'm here for you. And I'll help you color-coordinate your dates with whoever- boy, girl, none of the above."

Mabel managed a toothy smile. "Thanks."

"No biggie."

"Hey, guys?" Dipper broached the blanket fort with an awkward grin. His polka-dot bowtie had taken a hike somewhere along the way. "We, uh, we caught the gnome. It's all good."

Pacifica sighed and sat up. "Well, that's my cue. Later, dorks."

* * *

She found her mother on the front step of the Mystery Shack, a lit cigarette in hand.

"That good, huh?" Pacifica asked.

Priscilla let out a small, sad laugh. "Well, it went better than expected, given the budget. I'm Mrs. Priscilla Powers, if nothing else."

"And Mr. Powers?"

She waved the notion away. "Big case in Kentucky."

"Ah," she said, coming to sit beside her. "Hey, Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Why _blue_?"

Priscilla sighed, long and loud, pinching her brow. "Would you believe it's because someone at the grocery store told me it's a color that symbolizes change?"

"Isn't that green? Y'know, spring, forest, that type of thing?"

She groaned.

"You forgot, didn't you?"

She groaned louder.

Pacifica laughed. She nudged her shoulder. "If it helps any, it's better than the last time, amiright?"

"I didn't have a gnome suitor last time."

"Wasn't it a Manotaur?"

"Don't remind me, Pazzy."

"Yes, ma'am."

Priscilla held out her smoke for her to take. Pacifica held up a hand, shaking her head, and the offer withdrew. They stayed that way until the cigarette burnt out, not looking forward to the hassle of moving yet again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, a companion piece! I haven't done one of these in a while, actually. So here's a really weird and silly concept with a really weird and silly pay-off.
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> -Mandaree1


End file.
